For the Hard Weeks (And the Ones Who Cheer Us On)

This week was an emotional roller coaster—but not the fun kind. Not the smooth, engineered kind with safety checks and predictable drops. I’m talking about the pop-up fair kind. The ones assembled in a few hours, probably violating several OSHA guidelines, and leaving you questioning every life choice while strapped in.

Ironically, the scale cooperated. I’m officially back to my pre-cruise weight. On paper, that’s a win. Emotionally? This week was heavy.

It started Monday night with hosting speed dating in Rhode Island. That event came with its own drama and stress, but when I got home, I found Penny with another ruptured, bloody cyst on her side.

On the bright side, I had made a beautiful, Program-perfect taco salad for dinner—complete with four ounces of corn to check off my limited vegetable. A small win before the loop-de-loop.

Saturday, Penny failed the sniff test.

For those unfamiliar, the sniff test is a dramatic production where I pretend to evaluate her cleanliness. If she passes, she gets praise. If she fails, she gets a bath. She loves the attention. She hates when it ends in shampoo.

So there we were, in the shower, attempting to clean both dog and loosely covered cyst (note to pet parents: do NOT cover ruptured cysts). It was stomach-curling gross, and I did not handle it with grace. After several phone calls, the solution was clear: a one-hour drive to Ocean State Veterinary in Rhode Island.

Even though I called ahead, we waited two hours before she was seen.

Did I plan for a two-hour round trip and a three-hour vet visit? Of course not. I had eaten a small breakfast but skipped lunch and didn’t think to bring anything with me.

HALT teaches us to pause—are we hungry, angry, lonely, tired? Why do we think we need food? But HALT doesn’t always account for being overwhelmed and running on adrenaline.

We finally got home with a shaken Penny and a fresh prescription for antibiotics when I received the call to come to the hospital to say goodbye to my grandfather.

I didn’t think about my empty stomach. I didn’t think about food at all. I brought Penny inside, got back in the car, and went to be with my family.

I don’t know if the hospital cafeteria was open. I do know eating was the last thing on my mind. I wanted to be present. To tell my grandfather I loved him. To support my family. I even shopped groceries for them to help ease one small burden.

By the time I returned home, fed Penny, and gave her medication, the only thing I could manage was bed.

I did WAIT. I did HALT. And what I realized was that I wasn’t hungry for food—I was exhausted in every sense of the word.

Sunday morning, I woke up starving. That’s what happens when you only eat five of your 15 required layaways. Sunday wasn’t perfect, but it was legal. And it came with a snowstorm for good measure.

The rest of the week was Thin’s In friendly. I even got in my exercise by shoveling what felt like feet of snow off the stairs—over the bridge and through the woods, or at least that’s how dramatic it felt.

Then Monday night, my grandfather passed away.

When I got the news, I felt pulled in two directions: never eat again or eat everything in sight. Grief can whisper extremes. But I knew neither choice honored him.

He was one of the biggest supporters of this blog and of me following Program. Despite having a sweet tooth and enjoying the occasional treat, he understood how much I needed this structure. How much it mattered.

He was often my muse for these posts. And in his honor, they will continue.

Unlike the book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max, I hope they have Wi-Fi in Heaven—so he can keep reading every week.

And maybe that’s the lesson from this rickety roller coaster of a week: Program isn’t just for the easy days. It’s for the vet visits, the snowstorms, the hospital rooms, and the heartbreak. It’s for the moments when we don’t trust our instincts and need something steadier to hold onto. This week wasn’t graceful, but it was honest. And sometimes staying on track—imperfectly—is the strongest thing we can do.

This week’s loss: 2 pounds

Total loss so far: 54 pounds